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• Who knows what I did this morning. After tonight, I’m lucky if I can cross the road without getting run over, let alone remember the past. No, wait... it’s coming back. I worked this morning. I got up horribly early and went to work. I got very little sleep last night and worked all morning. That’s why I can’t remember anything after staying up all night tonight, and working again tomorrow morning.

Night

• Bronwen and I enjoyed a fantastic curry from the always-fantastic curry place, which seems to be getting busier and busier.

11:30pm

• Bronwen and I rush to the local supermarket, where we buy a bag of bananas—synthetic, naturally—a bag of liquorice allsorts, and a bag of “orange rollers”—which are identical to jaffas in all but name, and two litres of Pepsi. We then catch a bus to Indooroopilly Megaplex, which is full of young women, all made-up to go out, but wearing pyjamas. There’s two huge queues waiting for the two other movie marathons, and a couple of what appear to be hardcore cartoon fanatics waiting for our marathon—Spiderman one, two and three. We sit in the very middle of the front row, surrounded by our junk food.

6:30am

• I’m not sure why people sit down the back. Even in the busiest sold-out movie sessions, the last place to fill is the middle of the front row—yet it’s clearly the best seat in the cinema. People complain that it would hurt their eyes, or their neck—but I’ve just sat through eight hours of action movie, in the front row, and apart being fully immersed in a near-wraparound cinematic experience while the folk up the back had to peer at a small screen down the front, having unlimited leg room, and being able to lay on the floor when I got sick of the seats, it was fine—my neck and eyes are as attractive, deep and soulful, as ever. What isn’t too good though, is that I need to be at work in an hour.